


Ambrosia

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Cullen's dreamy, Dorian's dreamier, M/M, not quite a meet-cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: In which Cullen wonders if it was a dream. Written for the quote: “That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.” - Andrea Gibson





	

When he woke it was like a dream. Maybe it had been. Maybe it had been a wonderful dream after a long day, and there was nothing more to it than that. It felt like a dream. Nothing like that ever happened in real life, not to him, so there was no way that it could have actually happened. He was Cullen Rutherford, for the Maker’s sake, everyman extraordinaire and painfully average as the day was long. Nothing ever happened to him. Nothing like those montages in movies that always seemed like real life had all but up and abandoned whatever main characters were trying to live their ‘normal’ lives.

He tasted like wine. No, that wasn’t exactly true. He tasted like wine and fruit and something spicy underneath it all. In some of the old texts they called it Ambrosia, food of the gods, and the mere mortals who were able to taste it were chosen by those Divine creatures as something special. He’d never been special. Never felt special. Not before, but…certainly he _had_ for what had felt like seconds and years all that the same time.

For a moment it all seemed hazy, like it really had been a dream. Or maybe like he’d just been incredibly drunk. He saw the night play out like he wasn’t himself. It was like he was watching one of those movies and real life had abandoned him in the best way. He’d laughed. He’d talked. He’d opened up like a door had been forcibly removed and he _felt_ like he never had. The world, and the night, had opened up to him. It was like a flower blooming, those ones that only ever bloomed in the dead of night once every Age, and it burned low in him like the last embers of a bonfire.

Grey eyes. Dark hair. Full lips. A laughing smile. A mustache that, by all accounts, should have been ridiculous. Expanses of bronze skin that was so smooth to the touch that Cullen had to wonder if the man were real at all. How had they met? How had they started talking? How had they _kept_ talking? How did that man, that beautiful man, want to keep his company when there were so many other options. Cullen never saw himself as interesting or particularly charismatic. He never thought that someone like _that_ would give him a second look. How had they gone from wherever they’d started to running down the damp sidewalks hand in hand like old friends? How had they laughed for hours, made jokes like they’d known each other for years, and made eyes like lovers?

He couldn’t remember. He just remembered the taste. He remembered the happiness and freedom that he never felt before those moments. He remembered the hand in his own. When he breathed it was like he was breathing in some kind of magic. He remembered those eyes and how the looks they shared made his stomach do flips. It was a dream. It had to be a dream.

Cullen exhaled. He sighed. When he sighed it was like something he couldn’t quite remember. Something like sadness. Something like regret. Something like an early morning and an end before a real beginning. Something like laughter that went from happy to sad in a heartbeat. Something like loneliness.

_Kiss me._

He’d tasted it then. It wasn’t the wine. It wasn’t fruit. It was him. It was everything that Cullen wanted. It was something like a promise, a whisper, that made his insides ache. It was something he’d never allow himself before. It was something unexpected. It was warm and heated and so right for all the ways it should have been wrong. It was ambrosia. It was ambrosia and perhaps Cullen had been touched by something like magic.

Something like a man.

Then the door to the adjacent bathroom opened, and Cullen blinked twice before he lifted his head. Standing there was his dream. Grey eyes. Dark hair. Full lips. A laughing smile. A mustache that, by all accounts, should have been ridiculous. Expanses of bronze skin that was so smooth to the touch that Cullen had to wonder if the man were real at all. He was real. It had been real.

So he sat up, watched as the man almost shyly made his way back to the bed. Their eyes never left each other’s. He sat, Cullen watched. They were silent. In the air there was something like magic. There was something like loneliness. There was something like maybe if something wasn’t done this really would be a dream.

“Kiss me.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr! @sallyamongpoison


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